


Sans Défaut

by SepticRaven



Series: Writing Prompt Responses [4]
Category: No Fandom, Slight Supernatural fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Technically these characters are from one of my books, brief mentions of past abuse, but its an au here, promt, tattoo parlor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 18:52:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12260097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SepticRaven/pseuds/SepticRaven
Summary: Tattoos are perminant. Ink that will forever show a part of your life, like a word in a book of many pages. It can show immaturity, loss, love, memory, but sometimes it remains unknown.Like now.Talley marks were meant to count, but not to ink on your skin. What could you possibly be counting so indefinitely for seven years? Three hundred and eight tattoos have to mean something.





	Sans Défaut

**Author's Note:**

> This is my responce to a prompt by Writing.prompt.s that I have had on the back burner for weeks, but I finally finished it. My readers who have read 'Call Me Grey' may recognize these names one day, but this is a stand alone au. Without further ado, go on.
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> You are a tattoo artist and the same man who has come into your shop many times returns again, all to get the same tattoo, a talley mark.  
> (Writing.prompt.s)

 

A young man sighed, frowning at the fogged up glass of the shop. It was frigid outside, he couldn't help but enjoy the warmth inside of the aged parlor. He knew the heating bill for the ancient building would bite him later, but at least he could enjoy the peace for now. He had always truly loved watching the snowflakes through those giant windows, the extremely early, but welcome homely glow of the city's Christmas decor glowing like sprites against the night. He loved to sit there on the quiet nights, sketching the streets in vain hopes he could some day permanently ink it on skin. He would have gotten a tattoo of the shop window if he could, but it wasn't exactly something he trusted someone to draw on his skin, no, this was his scene and his only.

The peace was disturbed by the tinkle and jingle bells, causing the young man to look up at the disruption. His face broke out in a smile, leading him to raise himself up from his window booth seat to greet the man looking up at the parlor door's 'alarm', a cluster of jingle bells, with a raised eyebrow. Liam's showman smile wasn't needed, this wasn't much of a stranger anymore.

"Tomas! I wondered when you'd come in!" He greeted, his cheery voice and smile seeming to light the previously echoing emptiness of the tattoo parlor. The young man was always cheery, but not over the top. It made him pretty popular with patrons, something pretty rare from a decently covered non female employee. Well, his tight black tank top and leather pants with a work belt wasn't the most modest, but hey, it wasn't wrong to help distract his patrons from the pain. All outfits aside, he enjoyed the experience, it had definitely helped him gain confidence.

The man stepped inside, his trench coat falling off his shoulders, speckled with the snowflakes from outside. His black half shave covering one eye as he shook his head to rid of the tiny snow speckles, making his hair wilder than usual. He looked like he had been electrocuted almost, but he made the style work somehow.

  
"Its always a pleasure, Liam. I'm here for the next one." His customer's voice was rough and cold, but Liam took no offense. He had long ago learned that was just how his patron spoke, nothing having to do with him in general. Liam grinned as he gathered up the needed tools, smiling as he brushed off the tiny bit of dust that had invaded the precious equipment. He should know by now that they should always be ready, that Tomas would always be back. Nearly seven years of service and over a hundred tattoos, Tomas always came back for another.

Tomas sat down in his usual spot, eyes roaming the parlor with interest.  
"You've always been a Christmas fanatic." He spoke silently, more to himself than anything. It was a true observation, something he said every year.

  
"Hey, don't forget halloween!" Liam chuckled, back to his, dare he say, friend. They had to be friends, they acted like it. The thing was, they had never spoken outside of the peeling walls. When everything was changed and cleaned, he turned around, a grin on his face.

  
"Okay, shirt off. What number are we now?" The man slid his trench coat off his shoulders, carefully folding it and setting it aside before he pulled off the black t-shirt he had been wearing underneath. Liam watched the action with a grin, observing every movement. So what if he stared at a customer while they took their shirt off, they got a tattoo out of it.

Honestly, Tomas was well built, nothing to scoff at. It wasn't too much or not enough, just the right amount, if Liam said so himself. Even though he could watch Tom all day like some creeper, he did have a job to do.

  
"Three hundred and seven." Liam shook his head with wide eyes, blowing out a puff of air.   
"You're crazy, Amigo." It was true, it had to be. What sane human being got three hundred and seven -soon to be eight- tattoos. What made it even crazier was what the tattoos were.

Now that he was situated behind his patron, his tools beside him on a moving table, he let his eyes roam his work. For seven years only he had given Tomas tattoos, and always it was the same thing. Talley marks. They covered his entire back, bending with the muscle as Tomas shifted. The ones at his left shoulder were faded with time, but the one under his ribcage on his right side was new, the black talley ominous and strong against the pale skin. The talleys were small, about half the length of Liam's index finger, but he still did them with care.

"How do you even know?" Liam filled the silence, stooping down and readying his equipment, the familiar buzz flowing through the air. The talleys had started out bland blocks, but soon they had become more interesting, at Liam's insistence, of course. They were still bland to Liam, but he strangely found himself looking forward to these tattoos the most.

"I counted them last night. You were right, these ones look more, whats the word you used? sans défaut." Liam chuckled, rolling his eyes as he started the familiar pattern, his hands finding their way after many years. He wouldn't be surprised if he could do this blind, not that he would endanger such perfect skin from a slip up.

  
"It's just flawless in French, you realize that, right?" His patron no longer flinched at the needle, something he loved. So many people spasmed and shook, putting him in the hard position of getting the tattoo right while simultaneously not telling them to stop before he did a real life enactment of that milky way comercial. He made sure to keep a bowl of the minis on the counter anyway, his warning.

"Yes. Did you get a new piercing?" Liam grinned, proud that Tomas had noticed the new bracket on his left ear. Stereotypical of a tattoo artist, he had many piercings. His ears had spacers and multiple studs on the cartilage, his nose had a sterling sliver ring on one side, a real emerald stud glinted proudly above his lip, his eyebrow had two black brackets, and this is just the notable pieces. People always told him that it was stupid to get so many piercings and tattoos, that he would regret it one day, but he just politely smiled and waved them off. They were wrong, he would never fall out of love with his art, he would never regret them. His art was his way to cover up his past through ink, beauty from pain.

Chatter about this and that flitted through the shop as Liam worked, finishing too quickly for his likes. He was cleaning up his equipment when the familiar question arose.

"Are you going to tell me today?"

 

In a darkened room, a laptop screen glowed against the gloom, a smile reflecting. Liam jumped as two large hands surrounded his own, a pair of startling brown eyes peering at him from behind his laptop, a frazzled side shave hanging partially over one eye. 

"What are you doing?" Liam smiled, a shiver going down his spine at the rough, but not as cold voice of Tomas asked him, amusement tinging the words.

  
"C'mon babe, the people need to hear our story!" He whined, pulling his arm free to run in through his mohawk, frizzing the pale mess of hair.

  
"Are you sure? Its not for some writing contest?" Liam shook his head, leaning over to his softly kiss husbands forehead. It felt amazing to call him that, after calling him his patron long ago. It felt even better than the first time he called him his boyfriend many years back.

  
"I promise. I just want people to know how lucky I was. Even if it was for one of the stupidest reasons."  
"Hey! It wasn't that stupid!" Liam chuckled at his husbands pout, rolling his eyes as the man rose and sat beside him, reading over his work.

  
"You little creeper."

  
"Don't change the subject. Even you have to admit that getting three hundred and eight tattoos just to see someone is stupid, even if it was for a god like me." Liam turned his body, leaning back on his arm as he stared, waiting for answer.  
"It wasn't just for you. It was also for the PTSD." Liam shrugged. Tomas admitted that he had gotten the talleys to help his move on from losing his sister and brother in a shooting and nearly getting shot himself by a crazy man posing as a firefighter, but that wasn't the only reason. A few talleys in and he didn't need tattoos to forget, he just needed Liam's voice.

  
"It was mostly me." Tomas chuckled, gently kissing his husband before pulling back to smile lovingly at the artist.

  
"Maybe so, maybe not, but I'm glad the god excepted my offering." Liam rested his forehead on his lovers chest, a smile on his face. The talleys still went on, but after that day they had a new meaning. They meant that the past could be forgotten. Talleys covered mental pain once and tattoos covered the scars of an abusive father, but between them, they were beautiful. It was beauty from pain in its finest form. Liam had been right, he didn't regret his tattoos or piercings. Sure, they din't look as youthful anymore now that he was older, but he didn't regret them. If he hadn't gotten them, became an artist, he would have never met the strange man who always got the same tattoo. He wouldn't have fallen in love with that strange man.

  
"Sans défaut." He smiled, eyes brimming the slightest bit as he turned back to his keyboard.

  
"Simply sans défaut."


End file.
